The Dance Of Flame And Shadow
by Countess Impossible
Summary: AU Dean needs to get away from his crazy neighbor and meets Castiel- a bar tender at a local bar called Purgatory. Will the strange man light up Dean's world or will he get burned? Destiel Rated for language and adult themes in later chapters.
1. Crazy Gordon Walker

_Hey guys! Welcome! Sit back, put your feet up, and relax because your in for a doozy. I'm going for crazy so let me know how I'm doing. Some of this is based on real events so hopefully it sounds legit.  
Everything is for ImpassionedWriter because you deserve it to put up with me. You are more awesome than you will ever know! Hearts!_

Chapter 1: Crazy Gordon Walker

After a long day of working at the garage there is nothing like the comfort of your own bed. The familiar dips and curves of the mattress under his body, and the way his pillow had been beaten into the shape of his head, and the comfort and sense of security under the comforter that's wrapped around his shoulders while he slept. What could be better?

Dean Winchester buried his face into the freshly washed pillow case, enjoying the clean scent as he nodded off to sleep.

It was the sound of the opening chords of Shinedown's Bully that jarred him out of sleep. Even if that was not something he listened to it wouldn't take long to learn the words to whatever it was the neighbors upstairs were listening to on the nights they decided to party.

And lucky for the Winchesters, this was the third night in a row that them bastards decided to party.

The annoyingly small apartment Dean shared with his little brother was one unit of a four unit complex. When they had signed the contract the landlord had made all kinds of promises to get them to move in. She would fix the warped floor in Dean's room, tear out the carpet that had suffered through years of abuse, the constant stream of ants in the kitchen, and a myriad of other little things that did not seem like a huge deal until they moved in and found a myriad of other little things that they hated and quite a few huge things that steadily drove them insane. The biggest being the neighbors upstairs and the fucked up people they bring home with them.

What is it that makes them fucked up? They watch. Everything. With Sam going to pre-law, and Dean paying for it out of what he made at the garage, paying the electric bill after a month of having all of their windows covered was enough to make them want to scream at the unfairness of it all, but they couldn't afford anywhere else and they had signed a lease for at least two years. They were stuck with what they had, and that included the fuckers that watched everything they did through the unblocked windows while music loud enough to shake _their_ floor with the bass and every word was as clear as if he had been listening to it through headphones.

Lucky them.

"_It's eight AM, this Hell I'm in. It seems I've drawn the line again for being nothing more than who I am." _

Dean groaned, in frustration. Just a few hours, that's all he wanted. Just a few hours of uninterrupted sleep. Is that too much to ask?

Laughter was outside the ridiculously long and wide window that took up a good portion of the wall in his bedroom. That was Dean's que to get up before the bastards started pounding on the window. Some nights it was as if they lived in a zoo and they were the animals that kids messed with through the glass. He hated it here. And the cherry on the fucking top was no matter what they did, the landlord, the police, did nothing about it. Who knows how many tickets they had been given for disturbing the peace- if they got any at all. The parties continued as if nothing happened.

Pushing himself off of the mattress, hissing slightly at the cold December air hit his flushed skin from being wrapped in the comforter, letting the blanket fall around his legs as he sat on them, trying to rub the tiredness from his eyes. His eyes were having difficulty staying open and that meant a long day at work later. Glancing at the alarm clock he let out an angry shriek. Midnight! Midnight! He had a grand total of two hours that night, three the night before, and another two the night before that! He had a _job_ and Sam was going to _pre law!_ The work that kid had to do made Dean's head hurt and he wasnt the one doing it!

Enough was enough! Getting out of bed, ignoring the two assholes standing outside of his bedroom window making humping gestures, and spanking motions at his nearly naked form, he dug through the pair of jeans laying on his floor for his cell phone. Somebody was going to do something. _Tonight._

The landlord's number was on speed dial from the amount of times he had called her. Pressing the number, he held the phone up to his ear, flipping off the guys outside his window while he waited. After the third ring, Bela Talbot picked up.

"Hello, Dean. To what do I have the honor?" Her voice carried over, making Dean's skin crawl, and not in a good way. There was just something about her that pissed him off on a level he didn't think he had until he moved into the shit hole he was in now.

"I'm going to fuck him up, Bela. I swear it!" He growled, pulling on his jeans over his boxers before picking up his shirt off of the floor as well.

"Always with the pleasantries." Bela said. He could _feel_ the smart ass grin on her face through the phone. "Who is it, exactly, are you going to fuck up, and why is it any of my concern?"

"You know exactly who it is, Bela. Gordon Walker! He's having another one of his fucking parties!" He shouted into the phone over the music that had been turned up to tune Dean out. "I have to go to work and Sam needs sleep to go to school! We can't live like this! It's Tuesday and I have slept a grand total of seven hours since Sunday! This needs to end!"

He could hear her sigh heavily over the phone. "What exactly do you want me to do about it?" She asked, sounding irritated with him.

"I want you to stop it! I don't care how!"

There was a pause. "Fine, I guess I can give him a call, Princess." And she hung up.

"Fucking bitch." Dean grumbled, shoving the shirt on over his head and leaving the room.

Sam was sitting in the living room, flipping through channels, his girlfriend Jessica Moore was sitting beside him, both of them looking worn out. Dean wondered how long Sam had been spending the night with Jessica when he says he's out studying with Adam Milligan who was studying pre-med. Did Sam even know about sex? After all, he was so uptight about it. He made a mental note to have the discussion about the birds and the bees later on when he wouldn't be so bitchy about it.

"Called Bela. Said she'd call Gordon." Dean informed his brother, leaning against the door frame. Sam nodded absently, deciding to turn the television off all together, running his hands through his hair.

"I don't know how long I can take this, Dean. We can't live like this." The younger man was barely heard over all of the noise.

"We'll figure something out." Dean called back, opening the closet door to grab his boots. There was only one closet in the whole apartment and it was located in the living room. It ran across the entire wall with doors on both sides. Just one of the little things about the house that made no sense to the brothers. "In the mean time, I'm headed out."

"Where?" Sam asked, getting off of the couch. Twisting to crack his back, he noticed the small group of people sitting on the stairs that lead up to Gordon's apartment, looking in on them. If there was one thing Sam missed about living in their old place, other than the silence, was having privacy. They had none of that here.

"Anywhere but here." Dean pulled them on, grabbing the thickest jacket he had. When he was as dressed as he was going to be, he dug his keys out of his pockets and tossed them to Sam, who caught them. "You guys head over to Jess' place. Get some sleep."

He didn't wait for Sam to say anything, he just walked out the door into the cold air.

"Don't you guys have anything better to do than spy on us? We're not that interesting." He snapped at the people sitting on the snow covered stairs. He only got laughter in return.

"Well, well, well. If it isn't Dean Winchester." Gordon's voice called from above him. Of course, every window in the apartment was open. Dean was pretty sure that he was certifiable insane.

"Come on, Walker! Some of us need to sleep at night!" Dean called back, knowing that he might as well have said nothing at all. Nothing he said ever got through to Gordon.

"I'll stop when Sam moves out."

"What do you have against Sam?" Dean demanded, staring up at the window the other man was leaning out of. "He hasn't done anything to you."

"I don't like him here. He brings bad vibes to the place." Was the reply.

Dean pinched the bridge of his nose. "Sam is gone most of the time anyway!"

"I know. When he is gone, I will be quiet. When he's here, I will party." And with that, he disappeared into the house.

Rolling his eyes, Dean made his way down the concrete steps that led to the sidewalk, trying not to slip too much on the ice, and began to walk. He wasn't sure where he was going yet, but as long as he was away from Crazy Gordon, he didn't care.


	2. Purgatory

_So, there is a lot of confusion and that's kind of a good thing. The object of this little- let's call it a writing exorcise of mine is to have much more story line than boy meets boy, boy falls in love with boy, boy has a sexual crisis, sex, everything is tidied up in a nice neat bow. I want to write something that has a lot more depth than that so be prepared for a lot more... randomness that will be not so random later on...  
That probably didn't help anything... bear with me! Gordon will be important to this story even if he just seems to be an annoying prick with no reason to hate Sam. It's all part of this little experiment of mine muahahaha.  
*Clears throat* Now to answer some of the hard hitting questions you, the readers have been asking!  
Darth Zannah: Exactly.  
Impassioned Writer: I don't want any OC's in this even if that means going back and rewatching episodes for second characters you don't see for more than one episode. Hopefully I don't screw up their characters too bad.  
LeeMarieJack: My first apartment did have neighbors like Gordon. They would party all week long with the music so loud it shook the floor and kept my son, who was barely one at the time, up all night no matter what we did. After we moved out there was a drug bust there- turns out the music was to cover up the conversations they were having while they sold whatever it was they were peddling. The more you know.  
I hope I've kind of helped understand what was going on *is doubtful* enough to want to read the second chapter! Yeay!  
Also, Castiel is going to be a little out of character. Kind of like a combination of Cas and Misha to make him a little easier to write. Forgive me!  
On with the show!_

_..._

Chapter 2: Purgatory

Dean had made it a grand total of three blocks, going the speed of an old woman with a walker as he tried not to slip and fall on the ice covered concrete that was hiding under the blanket of snow, before he decided that December was the worst month of the year. He had not made it very far and already the cold was beginning to seep in through his Carhart and into his bones. Rubbing his hands together, he stopped on the corner of the quiet street to decide what he was going to do.

The music that had followed him as he walked had come to an abrupt stop and he assumed that meant Sam and Jessica had left the apartment to find peace elsewhere. He guessed Gordon was a man of his word- no matter how crazy that word was. As far as Dean knew, Sam had never spoken two words to the man, let alone do anything that would have pissed him off to this level. He would have to ask Sam if he understood what was going on. Maybe he would call him on his lunch break and demand to know what exactly had happened between them to warrant this level of crazy. Not to mention have the talk with him about those birds and bees. Dean grinned at the thought.

He glanced at his watch. Twelve fifteen. He had a few options to choose from. He could turn around and head home with his tail between his legs to hide from the cold, or he could walk the few extra blocks to the nearest bar, down some liquid warmth and kill some time, before heading home to make it seem as if he had thought of somewhere to go before storming out of the house like the diva Gordon probably thought he was.

Knowing he was being ridiculous, he couldn't let the crazy man have the satisfaction of seeing him return home after he stopped his party so soon. Somehow that made it sound as if he had won- and that was not something Dean was going to allow. Turning to the right, he headed to the nearest bar- a little place called Purgatory. It was another three blocks away but it was closer than any of the others so that was his destination.

Shoving his hands into the pockets of his jacket, Dean returned to his slow walk, silently cursing the ice that was hiding from him.

...

By the time he reached the old building, Dean was shaking uncontrollably. The wind had picked up, forcing the cold through him as if he were paper. Maybe it was time to invest in a parka. Or a pea coat. Anything that would keep the infernal cold out better than his Carhart.

The handle of the door was frozen, making Dean curse loudly as he struggled to open it. Finlay the bar tender, who had been busy reading a book behind the counter, realized he needed help and opened the door from the inside. Snatching his hand away from the handle, he blew on it in attempt to warm it from the touch of the ice cold metal. Much to his irritation, the man who had opened the door just stood there, watching him as he had never seen anything like him before, his head turned to the side like a confused puppy.

"Am I allowed to come in or are you going to make me stand out here?" Dean snapped through his chattering teeth. The other man's mouth quirked as if he were trying not to laugh out right at him before stepping back and making a sweeping gesture. Scowling, Dean pushed by him, making a beeline for the bar.

The man took his sweet time getting back behind the counter, making Dean scowl. Couldn't this man see that he was cold? Was he trying to torture him by denying him the warmth he needed, even if it was in a liquid form?

Once he was behind the counter, the bar tender leaned over the counter, his arm's folding over the surface, his face still fighting to stay neutral, his blue eyes alive with laughter. Dean couldn't see what was so funny but then again he was in a bitchy mood from the cold and Gordon's stupidity. He scowled at him, not liking the fact that this stranger was making fun of him for the incident with the door.

"So, what can I get you?" The man asked, his voice deep and smooth, and for some reason that made him want to punch him though he wasn't quite sure why. "Some coco? Or some hot tea perhaps?" The corners of his mouth twitched.

Dean ran a hand through his hair. "Can I get some whisky, please?" He liet out a sigh, the weight of everything settling on his shoulders. He was exhausted, he was going to have to figure what was up with Gordon, and the depressing weather just made everything seem worse than what it did originally. There was nothing he wanted more than to curl up on the counter top and drift off to sleep, but he didn't think the owner would approve of that.

Slapping the table with his hand, and pointing at Dean, he let the smile drift over his features. "You know, I think I have just the thing." Turning his back on the blond, he surveyed the wall lined with liquor, tapping his chin with a finger. "Ah ha, here it is." He grabbed a bottle of Jim Beam and turned back around, looking triumphant.

He poured a generous amount in a tumbler before holding it up about eye level. Dean reached for it but the man pulled his arm back, smile still firmly in place. "Not so fast. big boy. I'm going to need to see some ID."

Rolling his eyes, Dean pulled his wallet out of his back pocket with some difficulty and pulled his ID out to show the other man that he was, in fact, older than twenty one. Of course, he made a big show of looking over every detail of the card to make sure it was the real deal, much to Dean's irritation. Finally, he was allowed to have his drink.

Dean downed it in a swallow. Already he could feel the warmth spreading over him, making him smile.

"Hey now, if you continue to drink like that, I'm going to have to cut you off?" The bar tender leaned against the counter again.

"Do you treat all of your customers with this kind of hospitality or am I just special?" Dean snapped, his fingers trailing over the glass, refusing to look the other man in the eye.

"What kind of person would I be if I just made fun of you and not the other patrons?" He asked, gesturing toward the small group of other people sitting together with a few tables pushed together. They were not like the other people who hung out at the other bars in town. This group was quiet, barely spoke over a whisper, and Dean had not even noticed them. How strange.

"Why?" Dean asked, pushing the glass back and forth between his palms, ignoring the slight scrape sounds it made against the wood. If he concentrated on something as simple as keeping the glass moving, maybe he would be able to keep his eyes open. Now that he was beginning to warm up sleep weighed heavily on his mind.

The man cocked his head to the side slightly, giving him a strange look. "Why not?"

"Don't you think there are people who don't like being made fun of?" Dean asked, looking down at the glass he was pushing around.

"I'm not making fun of them, Dean. I'm teasing. There is a difference." The man sat back down on the stool he had been sitting on when Dean first walked up to the door. Maybe he was being more sensitive than he originally thought. Rubbing his forehead, Dean shrugged his shoulders, giving up. He didn't really want to think too much about it- he just wanted to go back to sleep.

Looking toward the door, he noticed the wind had picked up, pushing the snow around the street and Dean groaned out loud. He didn't want to walk in that! He thought of the decision he had made coming here instead of walking back to his apartment where he could have laid back down in his bed, surrounded in his comforter...

He could kick himself.

"If I plan on getting home before I have to get to work, then I guess I better head out." Dean grumbled, opening the wallet that was sitting on the counter, yawning. He also thought about how he was going to get to work in the first place since he had given Sam the keys to his Baby. He made a mental note to give Ash a call about it in the morning. "How much do I owe you?"

The bar tender, waved a dismissive hand. "It's on the house. It's the least I could do after you almost froze to death getting here." He paused a moment. "Do you want me to call you a cab?"

"It's only a few blocks away," he yawned again, "thanks though, for the booze and the offer to get a ride." He pocketed the wallet and got to his feet, his head rushing from the abrupt motion, before falling to the floor.


	3. The Hospital

_Hello, hello, hello all of you beautiful readers!This would have been done sooner but I have been reading books instead of fanfiction this past week. I know, what a terrible thing to do!  
Anyway, this chapter is kind of filler but it was needed for the next chapter so... I don't know what to tell you.  
Darth Zannah: I can't tell if that was a good thing or a bad thing...  
ImpassionedWriter: It's a good thing Castiel was there to make everything all better! Lol, I do enjoy that mental image! Maybe a quick one shot to it later? I'll add it to the binder, lol.  
Also, I forgot to mention it in the first chapter but I don't own the title of this story. It's a line from the song Where Do We Draw The Line by Poets of the Fall- not that the song has anything to do with this story. Just thought you should know.  
On with the filler!_

Chapter 3- The Hospital

Dean opened his eyes against the bright light, blinking as he sat up, rubbing his eyes. The bed under him crinkled. What?

He looked around, taking in the different machines and the the antiseptic smell of the hospital. There was a heart monitor and a saline drip attached to him, but according to the tight space and the ugly curtain that couldn't decide if it wanted to be blue or green with the checkered pattern instead of the door, he was in the emergency room.

"What did I do last night?" Dean asked himself, looking around at the different things on the sink and farthest wall.

"You passed out in my bar." A somewhat familiar voice said from his other side. Snapping his head to the other side, he noticed the bar tender from Purgatory sitting in one of the chairs for the patient's family. He looked like Dean had felt the night before- as if he were ready to fall asleep on the spot.

"What are you doing here?" Dean asked, not trying to sound ungrateful to the man who had been thoughtful enough to have him taken to the hospital instead of rolling him out the door and leaving him to sleep it off in the snow like some of the other bar tenders he knew would have done. He just wanted to know why this man had stayed with him when he didn't have to.

The man rubbed at his own eyes, yawning. "I wanted someone to be with you when you woke up, in case you freaked out when you woke up in the hospital." He said, getting out of the chair he had been slumped in, and stretching, Dean winced at how many time's the man's back popped. Obviously he had been sitting there for a while.

"How long have you been here?" Dean asked, biting his lip and feeling bad about this man sleeping in the chair.

"I came with you. And it's," he glanced at his watch, "eleven twenty now, so roughly eleven hours." He twisted around, making his back pop more, before doing the same thing to the other side.

"Why?"

The man sat back down, yawning again. "I don't know. Just didn't like the idea of you being alone." He shrugged, looking down at his hands.

Dean bit at his lip more. Why would this man, a complete stranger, care about why he was in the hospital let alone care if he was in the hospital alone? A hundred questions danced around his head, each of them sounding either unintentionally cruel, or gushing his thanks. Ignoring all of those questions, he went for one that sounded more like a joke, depending on the way he decided to say it.

"Do you take care of all of your patrons like this, or am I special?" He asked with a cheeky grin.

The other man ran a hand through his out of control black hair before fixing him with a steady gaze. For some reason, this made Dean uncomfortable and the urge to hit him came back to him from the night before.

The curtain was pushed open and a nurse walked in, a smile plastered to her face, interrupting whatever it was the stranger was going to say.

"Well hello, Dean! We wondered when you were going to wake up!" She said cheerfully. "My name is Ava." She looked at the heart monitor and scribbled something down before checking his pulse, heart, and temperature, and blood pressure, absently chattering away while she worked. Dean found his gaze wandering to the other man in the room from time to time, and each time the other man was staring right back at him.

When Ava left, with the promise that the doctor would be in shortly, the man spoke up as if their conversation had never been disrupted. "Yes, I suppose you are special."

"What?" Dean asked, not sure if he heard that right.

"You asked if I did this for everyone or if you were special. The answer is, yes you are special." He spoke slowly as if Dean were a small child.

"I knew you liked me." Dean said with another cheeky grin.

"Something like that." They were quiet for a long period of time while they waited for the doctor to show up. "My name is Castiel, by the way. Castiel Novak."

Dean looked over at him, taking in the details of the other man's face. Unruly black hair, brilliant blue eyes, stubble across his chin, a slight crease between his eyebrows as if he couldn't quite figure Dean out, thin lips, and kind of a wide nose. He had to admit, the man had the face of an angel and the name kind of fit him. He just couldn't see it as if the guy had a name like Jimmy or something. Castiel was perfect for the man.

"Well, Cas, thanks for everything." Dean smiled, ignoring the way Castiel's face scrunched up at the nickname.

"Yes, well, I couldn't let you pass out on the floor and ignore that, could I?" He asked, sniffing slightly as if it meant nothing.

"Yeah, whatever. You still like me." Dean looked smug.

Castiel opened his mouth to say something else but was cut off when the curtain was opened again.

"Hello, I am Dr. Eliot Ness." He said without looking up from Dean's paperwork. It was obvious this guy was not someone who messed around when it came to his work. He came in, did what he needed to, and left. "According to this, you passed out last night due to exhaustion." He looked up at his patient. "Are you having trouble sleeping?"

"Yeah, but theres nothing you can do about it." Dean mumbled, looking into his lap, not wanting to look at either one of the people in the room.

"Have you tried sleep aids?" He continued as if Dean had said nothing at all.

"They wouldn't help against my problem."

"I'm going to prescribe you a sleep aid and we'll see if that helps anything." He scribbled something down on his clip board and left the room, closing the curtain behind him.

"Why wouldn't sleeping pills help if you passed out from exhaustion?" Castiel asked, getting out of his chair again.

"Because, it's not that I can't go to sleep, my upstairs neighbor wont allow me to. Apparently, as long as my brother is living in the building, he is going to stay up all night partying. If Sam is not there, he will be quiet." Dean grumbled, itching at the IV that was still in his arm.

"What did your brother do to him?" Castiel asked, looking at him in that intense way he had been loooking at him all day.

"Nothing that I know of." And he remembered that Sam had the Impala. If he wanted to get home without walking he was going to have to call his brother for a ride. Hopefully he wasn't in class right now.

Dean ran a hand down his body, looking for his phone, before he realized he was wearing one of those God awful hospital gowns with no back. A part of him wanted to be embarrassed that he was wearing the stupid thing but thanks to Gordon's parties he had next to no shame left.

"Hey Cas, you want to dig through my clothes and find my phone? My brother has my car so I'm going to need to call him." Dean looked for a way to be able to get dressed without pulling out the IV himself- nurses tended to look down on that- and found he was screwed. The tube was too short to reach down to his feet to pull on his jeans. Damn it.

Nodding, Castiel rummaged through the clothes sitting on the chair beside him in search for the phone. When he found it in Dean's jeans, he handed it over. Dean offered his thanks as he dialed Sam's number.

He answered on the third ring.

"Yeah." Dean could hear a lot of people in the background. He wondered where his brother was.

"Hey Sammy, I need a ride." Dean said, itching at the IV again. Why did the damn thing have to itch?"

"Okay, where are you at?" Sam asked, and the background noise all but disappeared. He must have stepped away from the others.

"The hospital."

"What did you do now, Dean?" Sam asked, sounding more exasperated than angry. Was he that bad?

"Nothing! Went to the bar last night and passed out."

"You need to stop drinking..." Sam started, a lecture Dean had heard a million times before.

"From exhaustion, thank you very much. So, are you going to pick me up or not?"

Sam was quiet for a moment. "Yeah, I'll pick you up." And he hung up.

Dean looked over at Castiel, a smile on his face. "You need a ride home?"

...

After doing all of the things necessary to get out of the hospital, Dean and Castiel walked out the Emergency Room door and into the cold outside, talking about noting in particular. Luckily, Sam was already there, sitting in the parking lot across the street.

When Sam saw them walking toward them, he got out of the warmth of the Impala, knowing that Dean was going to want to drive. That was the thing about the car, it was Dean's baby and therefore his right to drive. Sam tossed him the keys while the man that was with him, looked over the car.

"She's beautiful." Castiel told Dean, though he knew nothing about cars. Even he could tell that it was well cared for and loved.

"She's my baby." Dean grinned, patting her hood.

"Yeah, he has an unhelathy relationship with his car. Just ignore it when he pets the dash and sweet talks it." Sam spoke up, receiving a threatening glance from his older brother. He held out his hand to Castiel. "Hey, I'm Sam."

Cas took it, smiling in return. "I'm Castiel."

"And I'm giving him a ride home." Dean added, climbing into the driver's seat. Sam rolled his eyes but got into the back seat. Dean didn't have many friends and if this Castiel was one of them he didn't want to get in the way.

When everyone was in the car, and Dean had his baby started up, he turned to face his new friend. "So, where do you live?"

Castiel settled into the worn leather seat, enjoying the smell of the car. "I live upstairs from Purgatory. My brother owns the bar, but he has so many things going at once that he doesn't have time to run it. So, I do."

"He must have a sense of humor to name a bar Purgatory." Sam spoke up, earning a laugh from Castiel. "He thinks so."

The ride to Castiel's was short but was filled with easy chatter. When they pulled up to the building, Castiel undid the seatbelt. "Stop by sometime, I think after all of this you owe me a drink." And with that, he got out of the car, closing the door behind him, a smile on his face.

Dea laughed.

"I think he likes you." Sam snickered.

"Shut up." Dean put the car into gear.


End file.
